EDSBS: The Album
Sometimes during the offseason we get bored here. This is what happens...... Jaunty Rodgers & Hammerstein music begins Oh the T-sip and the dirt thief should be friends! Oh the T-sip and the dirt thief should be friends! One man likes to push a plow, the other is a giant cow, but that’s no reason why they cain’t be friends. Big XII folk should stick together Big XII folk should all be nice T-sips hire dirt thief alums Dirt thieves sell the T-sips ice. Big XII folk should stick together Big XII folk should all be nice T-sips hire dirt thief alums Dirt thieves sell the T-sips ice. I’d like to say a word for the dirt thief He came out West and then he’s never chan-ged He came out west and started playing football And hired a coach who always had an 8-ball The dirt thief is a good and thrifty citizen, that’s why he missed on Eric Dickerson You seldom see him with athletic sanctions Unless Rhett Bomar done and fucked things up. Oh the T-sip and the dirt thief should be friends! Oh the T-sip and the dirt thief should be friends! One man likes to push a plow, the other is a giant cow, but that’s no reason why they cain’t be friends. Credit to saxattack 29 The Big 12-2-1+1-1+1 Version All: Oh the Sooner and the Longhorn should be friends Oh the Sooner and the Longhorn should be friends One team worships Bobby Stoops One team dodges Bevo’s poops But that’s not reason why they can’t be friends Big-Whatever folks should stick together Big-Whatever folks should not be dicks Longhorns dance with the redneck women Sooners dance with the hipster chicks OU Fan: I’d like to say a word for the Sooners We’re number one for many valid reasons UT Fan: Your team, as always, looks rather impressive If only they gave trophies for preseasons I’d like to say a word for the Longhorns Mack Brown will make you all into believers Young Gilbert will throw tons of touchdown passes OU fan: But only to the other teams’ receivers. All: Oh the Sooner and the Longhorn should be friends Oh the Sooner and the Longhorn should be friends One team seems to choke a lot One team smells like sweat and pot But that’s not reason why they can’t be friends Big-Whatever folks should stick together Big-Whatever folks should not be dicks Longhorns dance with the redneck women Sooners dance with the hipster chicks UT Fan: The Longhorns set the standard for all programs Dismissing lesser teams with an unstressed ease At least they’ve won a championship this decade OU fan: It would be two if Colt McCoy had testes The Sooner is a permanent contender We’re always good, not just every few years Each season has potential for a title UT Fan: Too bad y’all suck at football after New Years Oh the Sooner and the Longhorn should be friends Oh the Sooner and the Longhorn should be friends One team’s coach is real intense One team really misses Vince But that’s no reason why they can’t be friends A fight breaks out, finally an Oregon fan steps in to broker peace. Oregon Fan: And when your conference shatters into pieces And you head west to play in perfect weather The Sooners and the Longhorns and the Ducks Can all lose to the SEC together (/trollface.jpg) I’d like to teach you all a little sayin’ Repeat it in your condo or your trailer I don’t say I’m no better than anybody else, But thank the Lord, cause I’m not fucked like Baylor All: I don’t say I’m no better than anybody else, But thank the Lord, cause I’m not fucked like Baylor Credit To TexaninNYC Roux Bitch Roux bitch, get out the way Get out the way bitch, get out the way Roux bitch, get out the way Get out the way bitch, get out the way OH NO! The fire’s out I’ma ‘bout to punch yo…lights out Get the FUCK back, I’m guardin mah grill There’s somethin’ burnin’, we can’t stay still I’ve been drankin’ and choppin’ two onions and I been thankin’ of choppin’ you Upside ya motherfuckin’ forehead And if your friends jump in, “Ohhh gurrlll”, they’ll be mo’ fed Causin’ confusion, we cookin with baits It’s not a gumbo, we runnin the ‘gates So hello to all you groupies and opposing fans Is there a plate for your ass? OPEN YO HANDS! I’m doin’ a hundred pounds in stock pot So if you do the eat light, get the FUCK outta my lot I’m D.U.I., hardly ever caught sober and you about to get fed the FUCK over Here it comes, here is goes UH OH! Don’t jump bitch, eat! You see them pilot lights? You hear that fuckin’ crowd? Start that goddamn show, I’m cookin’ through Hit the grill and flip the gator down I feed the crowd good – that’s what I do Young and successful – a spice symbol The bitches want me to fry – true true Hold up wait up, shorty “Oh wazzzupp, get my deep fryer hot, what are yoouu doin’?” Sidelinin’ is my fuckin’ bussiness Tryin’ to get my baby to trash talk soon Give me that jello shot and take that boudin back Who bought these fuckin’ T.V.‘s and liquor bitch, tell me that? No, it is a ton of butter, I don’t give a fuck But i’ma tell you like this bitch You better not walk in front of my tour bus stopping Bring it, get ’em Too bad I’m past the RR track Beef, got the rib rack Hit the trunk, grab the gumbo pump, I’ll be right back We buyin’ butchers out, showin’ slabs out We heard there’s foes out, so we brought the flags out Grab the gills cuz we poppin fish tonight, Beat the shit outta guys for not finishin’ tha bite I got a fifth of the ‘shine, fuck the Belve and shit from Britain I’m slingin’ shit up in the ‘gate like I work in the mission Fuck the dress codes, it’s street clothes, we all street fanz We on the dance floor, throwin’ bows, eatin’ up panz I’m from the BR., tryin’ to disrespect LSU. And watch the insults start flyin’ from the creaux Fuck this sausage shit, we slap on your plate, two in your body Grab ya four, start a boudin fight, ruin the party So move bitch, get out the way foe All you faggot motherfuckers make way for bourdeaux Credit To Boozy McHound Rancherfall Today was gonna be the day I was gonna skritch a buck or two. But then I hit the jackpot And I smked a dozen ciggies, too. I don't believe than anybody fee-uhls the way I do about you now-ow. Tom Cream is everybody's dream cuz the Hoosiers gonna win it all. And then sit around the den, Dippin thing under the Wonderfall. I don't believe than anybody fee-uhls the way I do about you now-ow. Because maybe, You're gonna be the love of Munchie. 'Cause after all, You're the Rancherfall Credit To: Verses by mnHorn Chorus by ACS Take it Reesey Well I’m running down the field trying to hasten my wheels I got seven coaches on my mind Four that wanna kill me Two that wanna drill me One says he’s fan of mine Take it Reesy, Take it Reesy Don’t let the sound of your own fans drive you crazy Light ‘em up while you still can Lane won’t be able to understand L-A is where I made my stand Take it Reesy Well I’m a chilling with my boy in Lake Forest Illinois And Such fine sight to see It’s George my lord, with Coach Alford And they’re slowing down to take a look at me They said Come on Que Bee, don’t say who me I gotta know if your weak arm is gonna save me We may lose and we may win But Golson can’t play again. So come on up and climb on in Take it Reesy Well we’re running down the road trying to loosen the load Got a word of trouble on their minds They’re looking for a leader who won’t be a cheater Which is so hard to find. Take it Reesy, Take it Reesy Don’t let the sound of your own fans drive you crazy Light ‘em up while you still can Lane won’t be able to understand L-A is where I made my stand They said Come on Que Bee, don’t say who me I gotta know if your weak arm is gonna save me We may lose and we may win But Golson can’t play again. So come on up and climb on in ND’s got it Reesy, Reeeeeeeeeeeesy They’re gonna take it Reeesy, Reeeeeeesy. Credit to Stempke Happy Ass's Lament (circa offseason, 2012) I dreamed a team in times gone by When funds were high for good recruitin' I dreamed that we still had Pat Dye Or, better yet, still had Cam Newton Then we were tough and unafraid Of Bulldogs, Razorbacks and Gators They said our players all got paid We answered, "fambly, hardware, haterz." Then the Red Wolves came along And our D went soft as feathers Michael Dyer hit the bong And we never were the same... He spent a season taking snaps He filled each play with endless highlights He made the Crimson Tide collapse But he was gone when April came And still I dream of a QB To run this crazy new pro-style The Heisman he may never see But, God, he can't be worse than Keihl I had a dream this team would be So different from this shit I'm watching Goddamnit, Whitehead, close the seam Chizik has killed the dream I dreamed Stars There, out on the Fieldturf, A teenager running, Catching a pass Scoring a touchdown. Bear be my witness I never shall yield, Til you sign on the line. Til you sign on the line. He knows his way to state champs, Mine is the way to the draft. And those who follow the path of the Process Shall have their reward. And if they fall, As Phillip Sims fell, The shame, The scorn. Stars, Bestowed by Scout.com. Scarce to be counted, Filling the offseason, With rumor and scandal. Fans in the blogosphere Creepy and weird. Keeping watch on the sites. Keeping watch on the sites. You know your place on the field, You know your route and your snap count, And each in your season Improves and improves, And is never the same. And if you’re sacked as Brodie was sacked, You take the blame. And so it has been and so it is written On the doorway to the locker room That those who fumble and those who miss kicks Must pay the price. Bear let me find them That I may see them Safe on my team I will never rest Til then. This I swear, I will have the five stars! -Allicolls Master of the House Master of the grass, chewer of the taff, Always at the ready with a fourth down pass, Throw a little bomb, dial a little fake, Fracturing a sentence till you can’t hear straight Everybody loves the hatter, Gives you everything he’s got Keeps a honey badger who is a bit to into pot. Likes to turn a field goal in to piles of shit. Cunning little brain, regular voltaire. Thinks he’s got a QB but there’s not much there. What a cruel trick of nature, landed me with Metty’s ass. God knows how I lasted cheering for this bastard of the grass! Duck Tales We live like the Hurricanes here in Eugene Pflugrads, chronic, uniforms – it’s a duck scene You might win a Rose Bowl, or miss a field goal. Duck Tales, Oo-oo What did Lyles do, can’t be good luck tales, oo-oo D-d-d-danger, watch behind you – NCAA gonna fine you! What to do? Just get rid of Coach Kelly, oo-oo! No Heismans or title wins but Duck Tales, oo-oo! Duck Tales, Oo-oo Tales of Uncle Phil, bad and good luck tales, oo-oo We include the Toilet Bowl in Duck Tales, oo-oo! -saxattack29 Quick Stop I’m gonna pop some caps Only got Bubbalicious in my pocket I – I – I’m hunting, looking for a snitch This is fucking murder Nah, drive up to the house like, “What up? I got a big glock!” I’m so pumped about some gum from the quick stop Ice in my veins, I’m so damn frosty That people like, “Damn! That’s a cold ass Tawmy.” Rollin’ in, hella deep, in a rented car cause I ain’t keen, Dressed in all Pats, on the surveilance I will be seen Get him out of the car, goin’ on a shootin’ spree Probably shoulda washed this car, shell and gum, evidence bag C (shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit) But shit, it was ninety-nine cents! (Bag it) Coppin’ it, not washin’ it, ‘bout to go and get some alibis Passin’ up on those Miranda rights someone else’s been talkin’ in But me and my grudge fuck it man I am arrested and cuffed and Savin’ my story and I’m hella happy that I ain’t a snitch I’ma take your prosecutors life, I’ma take your prosecutors life, No for real – ask your prosecutor – has he checked my other charges? (Thank you) Prison jumpsuit and some blue slippers Dookie brown leather butthole that they were diggin’ They had a broken broom stick, I took a broken broom stick I slept in skeet blanket, then I bought a kneepads Hello, hello, my ass man, my Mello John Wayne Gacy ain’t got nothing on my game, hell no I could take some Pro contracts, make them moot, oh no! The talking heads would be like “Aw, now they got the Tebows” Credit to Boozy McHound You Can't Shoot a Man To Death Up in Massachusetts Just last week up in New England, Mr Odin Lloyd died And they got Aaron Hernandez on a charge of homicide Some folks say he didn’t do it, and others say for sho. But they all agree this circus will distract us from Tebow. ‘Cause . . . you can’t shoot a man to death up in Massachusetts Even if the gunshot’s a surprise. No, you can’t shoot a man to death up in Massachusetts You know how Bayless loves to criticize. He got him late one evening after he’d had too much booze But forensics now has evidence from head on down to shoes. Aaron kinda shot him with a pistol, so they say. And then he tried to hide all of the evidence away! But you can’t shoot a man to death up in Massachusetts Not even with a 12 round magazine, No, you can’t shoot a man to death up in Massachusetts You know ESPN will cause a scene. Well, he really did keep working on that busy afternoon, Destroying evidence is tough in the swampy heat of June, He really showed some hustle, but when all was said and done, The cops arrested Aaron and they took away his gun. Oh, you can’t shoot a man to death up in Massachusetts Unless you throw the gun into a marsh No, you can’t shoot a man to death up in Massachusetts Even Urban Meyer thinks that’s harsh. Now, it may have been for pleasure. Or it may have been for spite. Or maybe it ‘s cause Aaron really isn’t very bright. Like the one time during practice when he ruined all the fun By pulling out a firearm when Brady yelled ‘shotgun’. But you can’t shoot a man to death up in Massachusetts And hope the witnesses are blind and deaf No, you can’t shoot a man to death up in Massachusetts Massachusetts is a far cry from UF. Circle of Hate From the day we arrive on the planet Each day we get closer to death You won’t get to see, all you want to have seen And your sports teams will lose lots of games There’s people out there who are different Their opinions: all of em suck. But this website’s a way To spend every day Telling them that you don’t give a fuck It’s the Circle of Hate It’s the wheel of derping It’s the black tirade It’s the ring of scorn Til we know our place As a poor or lesser In the circle, the circle of hate. Some teams fall by the wayside And Bama just wins championships And some fans make light of their troubles And some are professional shits. There’s no sacred cow we can’t insult There’s no comment we find out of bounds Mock a cheerleader’s face, Or the whole human race Misanthropes, your home has been found! It’s the Circle of Hate It’s the wheel of derping It’s the black tirade It’s the ring of scorn Til we know our place As a poor or lesser In the circle, the circle of hate. Category:Music Category:Big XII